


New Moon

by Val_Creative



Series: Kinktober/Whumptober/Goretober 2020 [29]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Affection, Bedroom Sex, Blood and Gore, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Goretober, Hurt Clarke Griffin, Injury Recovery, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Lexa Lives (The 100), Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, Protective Lexa (The 100), Rescue, Romance, Season/Series 03, Sexual Content, Useless Lesbian Lexa (The 100), Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:09:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27273217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Clarke gets taken by Lexa's enemies. After returning to Polis, she has no interest in bedrest. Lexa tries to persuade her.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: Kinktober/Whumptober/Goretober 2020 [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949473
Comments: 17
Kudos: 54
Collections: Kinktober 2020, Whumptober 2020





	New Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Do you guys love winning canon? Because I love winning canon. 😘 Lexa belongs to the fandom and Alycia as far as I'm concerned. Clarke's romantic bond with Lexa never went away since S2 and that's now basically canon until the very end. I'm still not giving JRottenburger any credit for that. HELLO. ANY FELLOW CLEXA SHIPPERS, PLEASE KNOW YOU ARE FANTASTIC.
> 
> Hey, if you read all the way to the end - please send me a 😊 emoji as a comment! I know things are hard right now and sometimes your brain doesn't wanna word. I get it. I would still appreciate a 😊 trust me! I'll take any comment you give!

*

A scout enters the throne-room, bowing his head to a grim-faced Lexa and informing her Clarke's whereabouts.

She has disappeared.

That seems unusual for someone like Clarke. Lexa remembers her speaking so passionately and fiercely about looking after Skaikru, about remaining within the borders of Polis to keep them safe. Clarke, of anyone at all, would not risk her people.

*

Lexa orders for a band of men to follow her, prowling near the mountainous woods connecting Polis and Azgeda's territory.

*

Sunglow bathes the clusters of ivory mountain blossoms sloping the heights and ranges. Lexa's ungloved fingers caress each petal, aching for the final bits of heat lingering. Darkness will close around the valley before long. A new moon.

One of the Trikru men signals Lexa.

She brushes aside the Commander's shoulder-sash worn to maroon patches, coming alongside him and locating a clear and shallow creek. Free-flowing water trickles over smoothed, grey stones. Lexa's stomach roils, but she shows nothing to her men.

What appears to be a severed arm, bloating and putrid of rot, floats by the shore. It's marked with a pale hand print.

It's the mark of Azgeda. Ice-pale.

_Where is Clarke?_

Panic flares through Lexa before she inhales sharply and buries Costia's memory deeper down. Her woman, her lover of amber-brown eyes. Curls as fiery and bright as her soul. This cannot be the same. Lexa will not allow it to end the same

Lexa snaps her fingers, getting their attention and pointing to a waterfall.

"Melon op. Blinka au."

_Heads up. Eyes open._

A open and crag-like structure looms above them. Lexa asses the decision of marching through the cold, frothing torrent of water, drenching herself, but she won't act irrationally. An enemy could be lurking on the other side. Titus would disapprove.

"Hod op."

_Wait._

She orders to the men firmly, lifting her war-sword and approaching from the side of the waterfall. A narrow gap exists between it and the hard, eroded rock. Lexa blinks through the curtain of mist, listening for shuffles or groans or cries for help.

To her astonishment, Lexa discerns an unconscious Clarke propped up to the rock-wall. Half of Clarke's face swollen with bruising.

A scoffing grunt. One of Lexa's men raises his spear to the waterfall.

"Em-de laik baga, Heda."

_She's the enemy, Commander._

Lexa glares.

"Nou sen yu fut daun nowe."

_Don't take another step._

It's not a request. She does not give a threat more than once.

The man straightens up fearfully, passing his weapon to another Trikru warrior and bowing deeply to Lexa. Holding himself in place. Lexa could have him bow from sunset to sundown if she wished for it. Idle commands do not satisfy her.

Lexa orders them to secure their position and confirm to her that Clarke's abductor doesn't spy on them.

Or waits for a strike.

Clarke hasn't been bound. That's odd. She would have escaped—unless the person who took Clarke meant to drug her to sleep or knock her out for the journey. Lexa murmurs her name, touching over Clarke's neck. A weak but steadying pulse.

Bruises will fade, she knows. That's not what concerns her.

Lexa feels a prick of horror as she examines the other woman further. Clarke's mouth has been sewn. A thin metal wire protrudes from her skin, crisscrossing. Her lips encrusted and glistening fresh with bright blood. This has been done recently.

"Klark…"

*

This has Azgeda written all over it.

One of Lexa's men pulls along Dakiva's corpse, and she can assume that Clarke won that fight or an enemy-scout killed her.

Lexa cannot blame King Roan for this. Dakiva would have gone along with an order from her late Queen. However, Lexa decides to confirm this, sending word for his counsel and obtaining the truth. Dakiva acted alone in harming Clarke.

She wished to harm Lexa through her. Just as Roan's mother targeted a beautiful, gentle-hearted Costia.

Clarke will never be safe.

(But that doesn't mean Lexa won't keep trying to protect those she loves.)

*

Bellamy paces outside of the chambers, frowning and grumbling under his breath. He scratches irritably at his cheek.

The guards watch cautiously from a distance, going rigid and attentive as Lexa exits. She has scrubbed off the dark eye-paint. Her brown hair loosened. Lexa grasps the end of her torn-tatters of a sleeping robe. Bellamy's eyes widen impossibly big.

"Is she alright? Is Clarke gonna be alright?" he blurts out, rushing forward to Lexa. "Nobody's said anything."

Lexa raises a hand as the guards advance on Bellamy. They halt.

"Of course she is," she murmurs.

Bellamy's entire frame sags. He runs his hands over his face. "Thank you."

"You are devoted to Clarke… aren't you, Bellamy?"

"She's my best friend. I should have been there when Clarke was taken," he insists. "I should have stopped it."

"I'm aware of the feeling you are describing. You are feeling guilt," Lexa observes him, faintly smirking. "You need not wallow in it. She has access to our finest healer living in Polis and they can assure me Clarke is strong. I told them I already knew this."

Bellamy cracks a smile, awkwardly shifting.

"You've been good for her… for Clarke… weirdly enough, I trust you with her," he says.

"How kind."

Lexa doesn't need a man's permission nor his faith in her when it comes to her influence, she thinks. The Commander's will is what rules everything and everyone in Polis. Lexa nods, allowing a solemn Bellamy to enter and greet Clarke.

It is best. For now.

*

"…you know you can come to me about anything, right?"

Lexa re-enters the tower's bed-chambers quietly. She gazes over Clarke nodding to Bellamy, hugging him. Her bare arms locking around him. Bellamy shuts his eyes and presses a kiss on top of Clarke's head, like he's doting on his little sister.

"Have a pleasant evening, Bellamy," Lexa announces as he walks by her.

"Night."

She gazes back to Clarke looking mildly exasperated. Her bruises darken with color. Clarke's mouth no longer sewn together with wire. It was not a pretty sight for Lexa. She did her best, holding Clarke's wrist and stroking it, coaxing her to stay still.

Clarke writhed and fought against the healer initially.

No amount of sensation-numbing ointment could help as her blood was cleansed and peeled off. The wires clipped.

Lexa forced herself to witness as each metal wire slid out, plucked from the thick, vulnerable flesh of Clarke's mouth, leaving the tiniest of bleeding holes. The healer instructed Clarke to rub in different ointments to her wounds. Clarke was to limit her mouth's uses.

"Rest yourself for now," Lexa whispers, pushing lightly on Clarke's shoulders as the other woman attempts to stand. Clarke's eyes narrow in indignation. "You are no good to your people if you are walking around half in your sleep."

_"Lexa…"_

Clarke's knuckles sweep over Lexa's jaw.

A delightful thought blooms. Soft and ivory like the mountain flowers in Lexa's memories.

Lexa eyes Clarke's lips, helping her lie back on the furs and blankets and pillows. Her hands lift up Clarke's tattered robe, guiding over her knees.

"Klark…" Lexa murmurs, nuzzling Clarke's thighs.

A surprised whine.

_"You smell good, Klark…"_

A stain of pink appears over Clarke's nose.

"You're doing well…" Lexa praises her, smiling and bending over to mouth over Clarke's soaking-wet entrance. Kissing her, tonguing her deep. It only seems appropriate to make love to Clarke on a new moon. Giving into renewal and reflection.

"Trust me…"

*

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2020 prompt(s): **Praise Kink**  
>  Whumptober 2020 prompt(s): **Reluctant Bedrest**  
>  Goretober 2020 prompt(s): **Sewn**


End file.
